Goodbye Woodhouse
by Red Witch
Summary: Woodhouse receives his final reward for his loyalty.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone to the great beyond. I wanted to give Woodhouse the happy ending he rightfully deserves. Here it is.**

 **Goodbye Woodhouse **

He wasn't quite sure when it happened. Or how it happened. But something definitely happened.

Strangely enough Woodhouse didn't feel any aches or pains. Not even the familiar ones he had grown accustomed with age. No, he felt lighter somehow.

He opened his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light. To his surprise he was standing in the old officer's mess back in his regiment. "How did I end up here?" Woodhouse asked. "Dear God, this is one very realistic hallucination."

"You don't know the half of it."

Woodhouse turned around and to his shock he saw someone he never thought he would see again. "It can't be…"

"Woodhouse you old scoundrel," Reggie was there in all his regiment glory. "You look like Hell. And that's saying something around these parts."

"Reggie…" Woodhouse gasped. "But you're…."

"Dead?" Reggie raised an eyebrow. "As a dodo, old chap."

"But if you're dead and I'm…" Woodhouse realized the truth. "Oh…Damn."

"Well we try not to say **that word** much around here," Reggie smirked. "Looks like you had one ride on the dragon too many old sport. Your ticker just couldn't handle it."

"So this is…?" Woodhouse asked.

"Oh yeah," Reggie pulled out a flask. "You got in. The chaps upstairs figured if all that selfless looking after that asshole Archer didn't qualify you for a pair of wings. Nothing would. Not to mention downstairs couldn't compare with the Hell he's put you through. Here have a sip."

"Thank you, sir," Woodhouse took a drink.

"Oh don't call me sir, old friend," Reggie waved. "We're all pretty much the same rank up here. None of that upper class racist twaddle. We're all the same and we're all one. Well except for a few obvious exceptions. But they're more or less pretty low key on the whole thing. You'll pick it up rather quickly. In fact I'm letting you in on a little secret, quite a few of the head honchos want you on their team. They're having a poker tournament to figure out who gets first crack at you."

"Really?" Woodhouse perked up.

"The head honchos know that you'd never be truly happy just lounging about in the afterlife like a lot of blokes," Reggie explained. "They know that you're happiest serving and they need a good man like you, Woodhouse."

"Yes but…" Woodhouse coughed. "What about…The uh…"

"The scalping incident? Doesn't count," Reggie waved. "You weren't in your right mind. During wartime with Germans…That sort of thing. And again, what you went through with that idiot Archer more than made up for it."

"So what happens now?" Woodhouse asked.

"There's a slight orientation period," Reggie told him. "Nothing major. It's just basically a chance for you to get settled. Your brother will tell you all about it. He's volunteered to show you around."

"Dickie? Dickie's dead too?" Woodhouse gasped. "When did this happen?"

"Your brother died about four years ago," Reggie said. "His lawyer called Archer but he didn't want to give you the time off."

"You mean Dickie died and he didn't…" Woodhouse was stunned. "Damn that little bastard!"

"Good chance that may happen old sport," Reggie laughed. "Anyway he's not your problem anymore. Good riddance to bad rubbish I say."

"Not like he'll miss me anyway," Woodhouse sighed. "No one will."

"I wouldn't say that. Deep down I think Archer will miss you very much. He did pay for your funeral services in advance and your headstone. The most expensive ones on the market. Silk lined coffin, marble headstone and everything."

"I didn't know that," Woodhouse blinked. "So he did care after all...?"

"Ironically the one who will miss you the most is Ms. Archer your real employer," Reggie sighed. "Once she figures out that it's not just another bender you're on."

"Strangely enough I will miss her," Woodhouse sighed.

"I know because the odds of her coming up here are pretty low," Reggie agreed.

"Didn't think heaven would look like this," Woodhouse looked around.

"Oh this? No," Reggie waved. "This is just something to keep you calm while you acclimate to the fact that you're dead. Based on a good memory and all that. Personally I would have gone with that incident on that Chinese trawler with those two prostitutes but you know…?"

"It's just so good to see you again Reggie," Woodhouse felt like crying. He felt even lighter than before. "I feel like my old self again…"

"Well…" Reggie chuckled.

That's when Woodhouse noticed his hands were getting less wrinkly. "What…?"

"Oh that's another thing," Reggie said. "Physical forms can change up here to whatever you desire. Because you know…Technically you really don't have a body. It's all mental. You'll get the whole thing in orientation."

Woodhouse took a deep breath and his features relaxed. Soon he was his younger twenty-year-old self. "I feel wonderful…"

"Now that's much better," Reggie said. "Come on, we don't want to keep your brother waiting any more than he already has."

"Sir…I mean, Reggie…" Woodhouse faltered. His younger voice more apparent. "I have to say something. I've always…been quite keen on you sir. I mean Reggie. I mean I know you probably don't feel the same way as I do but…"

"I know exactly how you feel," Reggie smiled.

"You do?" Woodhouse gasped. "And you don't…have a problem with it?"

"Woodhouse old chum," Dicky put his arm around Woodhouse as they walked into the light. "It's heaven. What do **you** think?"


End file.
